


The Care & Keeping of Rookies

by RemyJane



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Gen, M/M, Rookie Andre, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11384673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemyJane/pseuds/RemyJane
Summary: Usually Nicky takes care of his rookie; sometimes it's the other way around. Mostly fluff.





	The Care & Keeping of Rookies

Andre was snugly. He was full of love and open with his affection. It was ironic, then, that Nicky was the one he latched on to, the one he flung himself at given half the chance. Alex had to stifle his laughter as Nicky’s eyes widened whenever Andre barreled into him. 

Andre stayed with Nicky, which allowed the blond to adjust to his physical displays of affection even if he didn't encourage them. It only took a month for Nicky to stop flinching away and another few weeks for him to stop tensing up all together. 

1.

“I don't think I can do dinner.” Nicky’s voice was quiet over the phone. “Burky’s sick.” He explained. 

Alex huffed. “You promise you go.” He pressed the phone between his ear and his shoulder, surveying his closet. “And you like Zhenya.”

Nicky snorted. “I tolerate him. You two always speak too much Russian anyway.” 

“Crosby coming too.” Alex offered. “You come, make even.” He didn't think Nicky would reconsider though, not for Crosby. 

“I'm not going. Have fun.” Nicky told him evenly, no emotion to his voice. Alex almost refused to have fun, on principle. 

Despite Nicky’s absence, dinner was enjoyable. Alex liked Evgeni’s company, especially when they were getting along. Sidney was polite, and his face turned bright red whenever Alex teased him, which made Evgeni laugh harder. 

Afterwards, Alex decided to go to Nicky’s. He let himself in, toeing off his shoes at the door and padding into the entryway. The house was dark and he could hear the low murmur of the TV, something in Swedish. He followed the noise into the den. 

“Hey.” Nicky said, looking up. He had a small grin on his face, soft and warm; it melted away any lingering anger. Andre was curled under a blanket, snuggled in against Nicky’s chest. 

“Hey.” Alex stepped closer. Andre was flushed and not quite sleeping, tracking Alex’s movements with glazed eyes. Instinctively, Alex pressed a hand to his forehead. “Too warm.” He declared as Andre half-heartedly tried to bat his hand away, whining at him wordlessly in protest. 

“Mhm.” Nicky hummed. “He's had a fever all day.” He scratched his fingers through Andre's hair, smiling when the young man relaxed again. 

Alex considered them both, cozy and inviting on the couch, before gently encouraging Andre to move enough for him to have some space. “Poor pup.” He said, ruffling his hair. “First time sick here, fever too high to understand English. George splash water in my face.” 

Nicky laughed, glancing at him. His eyes were twinkling, happy. Home. “You took me to a disco.” He reminded Alex. Alex laughed, memory coming back to him in bits and pieces. 

“He throw up in bathroom, get us kicked out, they think he too young and drunk.” Alex said to the rookie, watching as Andre raised his tired head. 

“Papa, you got kicked out of a bar?” He asked, eyebrows disappearing under his sweaty bangs as his eyes widened in wonder. 

“Sasha gets everyone in trouble, eventually.” Nicky said, eyes betraying his straight face with their laughter. Alex wanted to kiss him, but he slung his arm over the back of the couch, tangling his hand in Nicky’s curls instead. 

After the movie, Nicky forced Tylenol and Gatorade upon his young charge and put him to bed. Alex watched from the doorway as they conversed in quiet Swedish. Russian was beautiful, and Alex loudly maintained that it was the superior language, but he could listen to Nicky recite a grocery list for hours. 

Finally, Nicky pushed Andre's hair back and kissed his forehead before turning out the lamp. Alex recognized the words for ‘good night.’ 

He wrapped his arm around Nicky as he exited the room, quietly closing the door behind him. “Ready for bed?” 

Nicky covered a yawn, nodding. “I'm sorry I missed dinner.” He said as they walked down the hall. 

“Is ok. Burky need his papa. First time he's sick away from home.” Alex remembered distinctly, the memory seared in his mind by fever, how afraid he'd been. He’d been young, at a loss for English, and desperately wishing for his parents to help him one more time before he was expected to be an adult. 

“Better than dancing.” Nicky said drily, silently motioning for Alex to brush his teeth before bed. 

“Dancing best medicine.” Alex argued happily, smiling wider when Nicky rolled his eyes. 

2.

Andre got hit up high and it started a fight. It started a brawl, really, everyone squaring off. Alex watched from the bench, torn between pride and disappointment in his team. Tom Wilson was the only one really winning his scrap, though Nicky wasn't losing; Alex always forgot he could hold his own, provided he was pissed off enough. 

Nicky looked livid. His face was red, hair in utter disarray with his helmet discarded on the ice. He fought close, no showmanship and all repressed anger erupting to the surface. He was a force of nature with moderately good aim. Alex couldn't watch and he couldn't look away, like a train wreck. 

It all died down quickly and penalties were divvied out between the clubs. In the mayhem, Alex hadn't notice Andre disappear down the tunnel, only minutes left in the game. 

They held the other team off, claiming a 3-2 victory. Alex did his obligatory interview, razzed Nicky for fighting, and got dressed. He decided to go check on the rookie and he made for the medical facility. 

Nicky had beaten him there, looking impeccable in his suit despite a blossoming bruise on his jawline. He was standing beside an exam table, carefully examine Andre's face with an impassive expression. Alex could see the dark, knotted stitches from the door, the melted ice pack in his hand. 

“Probably won't scar.” He advised, moving closer. Nicky looked up and Andre smiled slightly, enough to keep the stitches from pulling. 

“A scar would be cool though.” He said cheerfully. He moved to touch it and Nicky swatted his hand away. 

“Leave it. If it gets infected, it'll definitely scar.” He chided. Alex bit back a smile. He shouldn't like cranky-Nicky, the Nicky the rest of the team lived in fear of, but he did. God help him, he did. 

“Nicky’s right.” He agreed solemnly. 

Nicky crossed his arms, sighing. “Well, you're lucky it wasn't worse. Go get your things.” He said, frowning, with a worried crease between his brows. Alex thought of smoothing it away with kisses, but that would have to wait. 

“Can we get ice cream on the way home?” Andre asked, in English for Alex’s benefit. 

Nicky expression softened. “If you don't waste time playing around, maybe.” He said, watching as Andre hurried away. 

“I get ice cream too?” Alex couldn't resist asking as they slowly followed after the rookie, walking side by side down the hall. 

“You're on a diet.” Nicky mumbled, pausing. Alex squeezed his arm. “He could have been hurt.” Nicky said, meaning coloring his words. He could have been concussed, like Nicky had been years back. 

“He's young. He bounces.” Alex said, shrugging his shoulder. He started to walk again but Nicky didn't follow. 

“Maybe.” Nicky sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. 

“You ok?”

“Just tired.” He admitted. “Ready for bed.” 

“Old man.” Alex teased. Nicky favored him with a small grin. 

“You're older than me.” 

“I'm young at heart.” Alex countered, feeling like he won the game all over again when finally Nicky smiled. “You, always old. Even when you teenager.” 

“Maybe so.” Nicky said, following him down the hall. 

Andre was subdued by the time they were ready to leave, adrenaline having worn off. His face was tinged paler than usual and he was quiet. “I think I just want to go home, Papa.” He decided quietly. 

Alex dug his fingers into his pockets to keep from hugging him; he was Nicky’s rookie, his boarder, his compatriot. The blond frowned, mouth twitching at the corners. He said something in Swedish, though Marcus didn't look up, so it couldn't have been too scandalous. Then, glancing at Alex, “let's go home.” 

At Nicky’s house, Nicky pulled a hidden carton of ice cream from the back of the freezer and scooped them all some. They sat on the couch, with Andre tucked in between them as they ate. Andre set his empty bowl on the coffee table and leaned into Nicky, careful of his stitches. “Thanks.” He whispered. 

Nicky nodded. “It's ok.” Andre squirmed closer, head on Nicky’s shoulder, arms wrapping around him.

Alex took Nicky’s bowl from his hands and then carried all three into the kitchen, rinsing them in the sink before loading them in the dishwasher. When he quietly walked back into the living room, Andre was still hugging Nicky, eyes closed but not yet asleep, judging by the tension in his shoulders. 

Nicky met his eye with a worried gaze. “You ok, Burky?” Alex asked, sprawling on the couch beside them. 

André nodded slightly. “Just tired. It hurts.” He said. Nicky patted his back once before gently encouraging him to sit up. 

“Advil, then bed. C’mon.” The rest of what he said was in Swedish, though Alex imagined, based on André’s grumbled protests, that it involved brushing his teeth. 

3.

Alex hadn't considered when they were younger that Nicky would get homesick. He must have, because almost everyone did, even the guys from North America who were only a few time zones from home at most. Nicky had apparently just done a good job hiding it. 

Andre did not. 

Alex came over several hours after practice and the house smelled like cooking. Nicky was a better cook than he had once been, possibly because he'd decided if Alex could do something, so could he. Or maybe he'd gotten tired of take-away, Alex wasn't sure. 

Alex kicked off his shoes in the entryway and hung his coat on the coat rack as he made his way to the den. There, the TV played quietly. Nicky was seated in the corner of the couch, long legs stretched out in front of him. Andre was curled in against him, asleep with his head tucked in against his chest. Nicky’s arms were looped around him in a loose hug, holding a book in one hand. 

“Soup’s on the stove.” Nicky said softly. Alex returned minutes later with a bowl. It was delicious but foreign, and he'd seen an old cookbook on the counter. 

“Mama Backstrom recipe?” He guessed, sitting at the coffee table to eat. 

“Grandmother.” Nicky corrected mildly. “Andre misses home.” 

Alex nodded, blowing over his spoon to cool its contents. “S’good.” He told him. “Is he ok?” 

Nicky raised his eyebrows in absence of shrugging. “He’ll be fine. It's hard, he's young.” 

“You were too, when you first here. You were never...you never missed home.” 

Nicky snorted. “There's a reason I was always at Michael's house.” 

“Thought for free food.” Alex teased, but he remembered how young, how tentative and quiet Nicky had been, half-glued to Michael Nylander for months. He remembered Michael joking that they'd had another kid, and how Nicky was blond, just like the rest. It hadn't occurred to him then why Nicky had spent hours playing ping pong with the kids, babysitting them, even. 

“That and…” he trailed off, faltering. “I missed home.” 

“You missed home too?” Andre asked, quiet voice hoarse with sleep. 

“Everyone does.” Nicky told him softly, as though sharing a secret. “It's normal.” 

Alex could see Andre mulling over the information, trying to determine if Nicky was telling the truth or trying to make him feel better. His eyes turned to Alex, mouth already forming the question. 

“I missed home a lot.” He assured him. “Cry in George’s basement.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

Andre nodded thoughtfully, settling down to rest against Nicky’s chest again. 

4.

Alex had coaxed Nicky into going out in D.C after a game and he'd corralled all of his team into the back of a club, taking over the cozy booths with long benches; if he could get Nicky to dance, it would be the socializing equivalent of a hat trick. 

As it were, Mike Green was passing Nicky shots and and the blond had yet to decline any. Alex knew he wasn't a light-weight. Andre, on the other hand, was. He was tucked in between Nicky and Tom, giggling and sneaking drinks from his teammates whenever he could. 

Alex sat down across from Nicky, tangling his feet in his under the table. Nicky grinned at him, bright, happy, and drunk. “Hey.” He greeted, his accent always more distinct in moments like this, moments when his guard was down. Alex cherished his sweet smile, half thinking before snapping a picture with his phone. 

Nicky’s face twisted into a thoughtful frown. “Why did you-?” 

“Should we call Ovi ‘Mama’ or ‘Dad’?” Tom asked, piping up to interrupt. Nicky paused mid word, considering the question. 

“I guess that depends.” He began, without telling them what he'd decided.

“On?” Tom asked. 

“On whether or not you think we’re really together.” Nicky answered, taking a sip to mask the smug grin on his face as Tom sputtered. 

“What? Wait, what? No, hold on. I can't do this alone.” He clambered out of the booth, yelling as he went. “Mikey! I need you.” 

“I was for sure he figure us first.” Alex smirked, laughing quietly. 

“I knew.” Andre said quietly. Nicky looked down at him, eyes half-closed. 

“You did?” He asked, nudging him to get him to open his eyes. 

“Uh huh.” He nodded. “Easy to see.” Andre slumped back into Nicky’s space, smiling contentedly when Nicky gave up and moved his arm to the back of the booth, so André could be flush against his side. 

“You also live at my house.” Nicky pointed out. Then, more softly. “What was it?”

“You have an extra toothbrush in your bathroom. And Ovi’s the only one with a key.” 

Nicky frowned. “And why were you in my bathroom?” 

Andre, eyes closed, grinned sweetly. “Looking for Ovi’s toothbrush.” He admitted, giggling. Nicky rolled his eyes, but Alex could read only happiness in his muted expression, comfortable with his team knowing. 

5.

Nicky had shown up at Alex’s house with Andre inexplicably in tow. Andre made himself comfortable on the floor, while the dogs fawned over him, and Nicky made himself comfortable in the kitchen, where he made tea. 

Alex sat on the counter, bouncing his heels off the cabinets and staring out the window at the inclement weather. Nicky frowned at him but couldn’t say anything; it was Alex’s kitchen. 

Alex thought about how warm his house felt, with his dogs, Andre's giggles, and the smell of tea being made. Nicky drew him out of his thoughts with the press of a warm mug between his hands and a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You're quiet.” He said, green eyes sparkling like they were lit from within. 

“Only thinking.” 

“Dangerous.” Nicky teased. He shifted, standing between Alex’s knees, setting down his tea in favor of resting his hands on Alex’s hips. Alex could feel the warmth of his touch through his clothes. 

“Like when you are here.” He admitted. He didn't have the words to explain why, exactly, the quiet Swede brought such a glow to his home, but he didn't think he had to; he didn't think he was the only one who felt it. 

“Me too.” Nicky said softly before leaning forward to steal a kiss. “Maybe next year…” He trailed off. 

“Yes.” Alex agreed. “After Burky moves, maybe.” 

Nicky kissed him again for understanding before they moved to the living room. Nicky sat close, pressed against Alex from shoulder to knee. 

André joined them on the couch, curling up against Nicky’s other side, burrowed under his arm. He was asleep within minutes and Nicky’s eyes were heavy as well. Alex twisted to pull the blanket from the back of the couch over them and Nicky gave a contented sigh before giving up on staying awake. 

Alex kissed his temple and turned down the TV, settling in. 

+1

“Papa needs you.” André said, stopping in front of Alex’s stall. He glanced towards Nicky’s stall, but the blond was gone. “Bathroom.” The rookie supplied, helpfully. 

Alex crossed the locker room, half-dressed and stocking-footed, and found Nicky in the last bathroom stall, hunched over the toilet bowl. His eyes were closed, skin glistening with a cold sweat. 

“Migraine?” He guessed, keeping his voice low. Nicky nodded. “Ok. You have shots?”

“At home.” He croaked, voice ruined. “Sorry.”

Alex squeezed his shoulder gently. “I drive you home. Burky, you drive his car.”

“Why?” Nicky asked, cracking one eye open. 

“So your car is at home.”

“No.” he gave a slight shake of his head, grimacing. “Why is he driving my car?”

“I like my car.” Alex said simply. Nicky groaned and closed his eyes again, leaning against Alex’s legs. Alex had seen Nicky through injuries and migraines and he could read the discomfort on his face to gauge how bad it was. Migraines were never good, but they were manageable and Nicky was strong; it wasn't as bad as it had been, when he'd been concussed. 

“I hate you.” Nicky grumbled. 

“You love.” Alex said easily, combing his hand through Nicky’s unruly post-game hair. “Burky, help me get his stuff.” Alex steered Andre out of the bathroom, leaving Nicky to turn his gut inside out in peace. 

They packed everything up in companionable silence, their own gear first, and then Nicky’s. Alex was purposely slow, waiting for the locker room to begin to empty and quiet before he went to round up Nicky. 

Nicky was still in the last stall, leaning against the wall with his hands holding his head. He squinted up at Alex, eyes only slits. Alex squatted down in front of him, pulling sunglasses from his coat pocket and slipping them onto Nicky’s face. “Ready?”

“No.” Nicky sighed. “Let's go.” Alex helped him to his feet, steadying him with a hand in the center of his chest, heart clenching at the way Nicky swayed. 

They'd done this a time or two, was the thing. Alex had helped Nicky to the car, trying to balance his staggering lover and their gear, while Nicky tried to keep his eyes open and not puke after a game set off another migraine. It made Alex’s heart ache when Nicky was anything less than 100%, when he was hurting at all. 

It was easier with Andre there. There was a second set of hands to hold bags, a second strong body for Nicky to lean on, even as the blond stoically pretended he was fine and it was the floor that tilted, not him. Alex tossed Nicky’s keys to Andre. 

“If you hurt my car, I'm evicting you.” Nicky threatened wearily, some of his intimidation lost in the threadiness of his voice. 

Alex smiled reassuringly at Andre, who gulped. “Drive safe, Burky.”

Alex was pleased that Nicky’s car made it home in one piece. Nicky collapsed on the couch, a crashlanded splay of limbs. His face was tight with misery, but he didn't complain. Wordlessly, Alex dug his medicine out of the bathroom drawer and brought it to him. Andre watched in mild horror as Nicky assembled the auto-injector and administered the shot without flinching. 

“Papa?” He asked tentatively, from the far side of the room. 

“I'm fine.” Nicky grumbled under his breath. He cracked one eye open, surveying Andre before scooting to one side. “C’mere.” Andre wasted no time in crossing the room and cuddling up behind Nicky, wrapping an arm around him in a gentle hug. 

Alex bit the inside of his mouth, holding back a smile as he took in the scene. Nicky still had his grumpy face on, frowning with his eyes closed. Alex knelt down beside the couch. “I go take care of dogs, then I come back.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to Nicky’s forehead. “Burky can take care of you." Nicky hummed in agreement, hands clasping Andre's and squeezing. "Ok."


End file.
